


Colors

by PotatoJerk



Series: Omega [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Chromesthesia, Maybe - Freeform, Mutant Powers, Omega Bucky Barnes, Synesthesia, Universe Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3441311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoJerk/pseuds/PotatoJerk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If those wires were crossed, it was because God meant for them to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

His mother was Light Blue-- far off storm clouds in springtime Blue --with a beautiful Pale Off-white singing voice.

He loved listening to her talk because her Blue made him feel safe. She had an accent that twisted her words, different than his father's accent, long and blunt, where his father's was sharp.

His father and brothers were varying shades of Brown-- his father, a broad, rich, Mahogany, his brothers, like Coffee, Chocolate, and Sand. They would sing, sometimes, like his mother did, and all of them sang a deep, solid Wood Brown.

He liked their singing more than his mother's; her voice was very breathy. It sounded beautiful, but he had trouble harmonizing with her, his own singing voice somewhere closer to Copper. He had a much easier time with his brothers and father.

His baby sister was a special case. She was Purple-- different, like his mother. His baby sister spoke in a delicate and feminine Orchid, sang in a deep Plum; it was beautiful.

_(His voice was Chestnut, Reddish Brown, smooth and attractive, at least to other people-- he preferred Blue, if it was all the same.)_

\--

When he was young, very small, he didn't know he was different. He thought that everyone saw sound, could differentiate between tones by their associated colors.

He talked about it to his mother, and she took him to the hospital, thinking that there were wires crossed in his brain or something like that.

_(That was how he found out he was different.)_

He couldn't argue that they weren't crossed, but he didn't see what the big deal was. His mother always said that God doesn't make mistakes, so, that meant that God gave him those crossed wires.

If those wires were crossed, it was because God meant for them to be.

_(He decided to hide it, though; it wasn't normal, and people thought he was weird enough with his mother's broad Irish brogue mixed with his father's lyrical Slavic-Romantic accent, and his father's foreign features.)_

\--

When he first met his best friend, he was on his way home from the corner shop with some thread to fix his sister's Sunday Dress. He heard voices in an alleyway, saw colors leaching out into the street. It was ugly Gray Black, an Olive color that reminded him of vomit, and a bright, glorious Sky Blue.

There wasn't much of the Blue, and he could tell that the people were fighting, and the Blue one was losing. He could hear the same accent in the Blue voice as in his mother's voice, and that clinched it.

He ran into the alleyway and used what his brothers taught him, defending this boy (he now knew that it was, in fact, a boy) and driving off the bullies.

The boy was on the ground, wiping blood from his nose, panting a bit, the sound looking Navy, almost. _“I had 'em,”_ the boy muttered, under his breath, just a touch of an accent there.

“ _Yeah, sure, you did,”_ his own Chestnut voice sounded cocksure, even though he didn't feel that way. _“My name's Bucky.”_

The boy was silent for a moment, then spoke up in a bright Cerulean voice, _“'m Steve.”_

_(In that moment, Bucky fell in love.)_


End file.
